GRIEF Poem: Buried, by Bri Mehen

Shovel cracks into dirt once again.
The force,
ripping callouses open.
There’s blood on my hands
at least it’s mine.

Six feet after six feet down,
maybe another six to go.
I’m not sure how far
is far enough,
to get me away
from this thing.
All I know is what I’ve known for years;
bury it deeper.

Shoulders ache, head aches, I ache.
The exhaustion is so intense it might kill me.
But I’ve said that before, and it hasn’t yet.
Just a few more feet I tell myself.

Shovel cracks into dirt one last time,
it snaps
and breaks in two.
I finally snap.
Everything is breaking down
and after so many life times so am I.

I cry,
I sob,
I swear,
I scream,
Until I give up.

Come morning
everyone will see the thing
I’ve tried to hide
I’ve tried to bury.
And I don’t care.

I’m tired
and if i spend another moment
trying to hide
I’ll never leave this grave
I’ve unwittingly dug for myself.